Star Light Star Bright
by CSM
Summary: AU. Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. A mother's love transcends through time and space and has no bounds.


**Title**: Star Light Star Bright

**Author:** CSM

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Once Upon a Time

**Summary**: AU. Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think (Christopher Robin). A mother's love transcends through time and space and has no bounds.

**AN: I've read MANY what if stories here, what if Snow went with Emma, what if the curse never happened, what if Emma ended up in Storybrooke before she was meant to. Well this is my version of Emma stumbling into Storybrooke before she was originally supposed to. Please give it a chance :)**

**Also I'm a sucker for Kid!Emma fics with her Mom, so there is that….**

* * *

**Star Light. Star Bright**

* * *

_Run._

That's the only thing that goes through her mind.

The blood is rushing through her ears and she can barely hear her foster father yelling drunkenly after her. Her heart beats rapidly against her chest as she sprints down the deserted street. She moves as quickly as her short limbs would allow her, her long curly blond hair blowing in the wind. Her throat burns as she gasps for breath, tears streaming down her face, but she can't stop.

She _won't_ stop.

After what feels like hours to little Emma, but in reality is only 15 minutes; she collapses with a sob onto the grass at the side of the road. She looks at her arm sobbing when she sees the large deep gash, deep red blood seeping through the cut. She moans as she takes the end of the dress wrapping it around her hand, the bottom of the dress now soaked with blood.

She hears a loud bang in the distance. Her eyes widen in fright as she scrambles to her feet, the sound of a car approaching making her take off into the woods. She begins to run, the pain in her arm forgotten, as the fear of being caught consumes her. She maneuvers through the forest as best as her short legs would allow. She trips over roots ever so often. Her sneakers slap against the wet soil with every step she takes, low branches grazing her cheeks as she tries to maneuver through forest. The backpack on her back hits against the back of her legs, the straps way too long for Emma's tiny body.

She runs through forest going further and further away from the road, the fear of being lost slowly creeping upon her. Her arm throbs in pain and she begins to slow down considerably.

Her throat is dry and she coughs wincing in pain as she climbs over a particularly large root. She has to sit on the root and swing her legs over it in order to get by. She cradles her injured arm to her chest as she slips off the root.

Her body begins to get sluggish as she slips between two trees and comes to a clearing. She eyes the stream a few feet away and bites her lip in thought, nervous. Finally, her need for water to drink overrides her fear of the water itself and she quickly makes her way to the stream, her head now pounding painfully.

She gingerly lowers herself to the foot of the stream gently lowering her hand into the water as she cries out in pain. Her dress and sneakers are now soaked. She tries to gather enough water to bring to her mouth to drink with one hand, but she cries out in frustration when she isn't able to with a small huff she bends over to drink the water, her curly blond hair forming a curtain around her face, the ends soaked from the water.

Once she's had enough and the throbbing in her head is too much to bear she crawls out of the stream and collapses onto the stones nearby. She sits a few feet away from the stream leaning against a boulder hugging her knees to her chest as she cradles her injured arm on her lap. She looks all around her and only sees tall trees looming over her, her bottom lip trembles when she realizes how lost and alone she truly is.

She closes her eyes briefly the movement helping to ease the ache in her head. She remains still, her eyes still closed and she breathing slowly starts to even out and she slips into a restless slumber.

* * *

"You said she was just lying there?" Mary Margaret asks, as she twists the ring on her finger nervously. She looks at the small child, whose tiny stature seems dwarfed in the large hospital bed "No one was with her? She was all alone and in pain?"

"Dr. Whale said she needed 13 stitches on her arm." Sheriff Graham says somberly.

It's been two days since the sheriff brought in the young child, after finding her by the riverbank bleeding and unconscious. Mary Margaret shudders to think what would have happened if Graham was even a day later. She's a volunteer in the hospital, usually spending a few hours after work spending time with patients. But, when she saw this little girl, it just tugged her heart and she can't explain it but she just _needs_ to know who this little girl is and why she was abandoned like this.

"That's just terrible." Mary Margaret says, her gaze never faltering from the sleeping child, "Did someone do this to her? I really hope not."

"I think she is a runaway." Graham says softly, his accent thicker than normal as he speaks.

He too seems to be just as troubled about this. Storybrooke isn't use to random neglected child just showing up almost close to their death. No place should be use to these kinds of things. But, their small town never has _any_ kind of mishaps or even strangers come into their town.

"I made some calls but there have not been any missing children in the area, and the closest town is at least 40 minute from here." Graham continues, "But they haven't heard anything and they said they will check around."

"She has to belong to someone." Mary Margaret says incredulously, "She has been here for two days and lord knows how long she was in the woods. We need to find her home."

"Mary Margaret..."

"No! I'm not going back! You can't make me!"

The little girl cries out suddenly, startling both adults. She sits up in bed, her hair mattered against her head, her curls in disarray. She winces when she yanks her hand that has the IV attached to it whimpering softly.

"You're okay." Mary Margaret says softly, as Graham seems be in shock and unsure what to do at the girl's sudden outburst, "You're in the hospital. No one is taking you anywhere."

"Please don't hurt me." The small girl whimpers, her lip trembling.

"This is your medicine." Mary Margaret says soothingly, as she takes a tentative step towards the bed, but stops when she sees the girl visibly flinch, "It's helping your hand get better and giving you food. You've been asleep for quiet some time."

Mary Margaret's voice seems to have calmed the girl down somewhat. She watches as the little girl bends her knees bringing it to her chest, but she is no longer playing with the tape on her hand. When she doesn't say anymore, Mary Margaret smiles at her warmly, "My name is Mary Margaret and this is Sheriff Graham."

"Are you going to take me back?" The little girl asks softly her voice wavering.

"I want to know what happened to your hand." Graham says, but both he and Mary Margaret know he can't make any promises to the little girl, especially given they don't even know her name yet.

They both realize belatedly that was the wrong thing to say, cause the girl puts her hand over injured arm almost as if she's trying to hide it, "I fell."

Mary Margaret and Graham exchange a pointed look, both of them immediately spotting the lie, "I'm sure that hurts a lot."

The little girl nods in agreement, clearly warming up to Mary Margaret much more than Graham, "Sheriff Graham is going to get the doctor, so he can look at your arm and making it better. Do you mind if I stay with you while he does that?"

"Okay."

Once Graham leaves, Mary Margaret pulls one of the chairs closer to the bed, mindful of the child skittish behavior, her heart aching at the way this small child flinches at adult comfort, "So, you know my name. Can I get yours?"

"It's Emma." She says softly.

Mary Margaret pauses at the name, almost as if she's suppose to know that name, but she shakes her head ignoring the thought and then smiles warmly at Emma, "Emma, that's a lovely name. Do you have a last name?"

Emma shakes her head, her eyes down cast, almost in shame, breaking Mary Margaret's heart, "No, it's just Emma."

"Well I think Emma is just perfect on its own." Mary Margaret says, her heart swelling when she gets a small smile from Emma.

"I like your name." Emma offers shyly.

"You don't think I have too many names?" Mary Margaret asks wrinkling her nose for added effect, at which Emma giggles, "Everyone else has one name and I have _two_."

"Mary Mar..Margaret." Emma tries to sound it out, but her little nose scrunches up, a frown etched across her tiny face, "Maybe it's too many."

Mary Margaret smiles, "You can call me Mary if you want."

But Emma shakes her head, "I'm not suppose to call grown ups by their names. I have to call you miss…wait what's _your_ last name?"

Mary Margaret smiles, Emma unaware that she is slowly opening up and thus giving Mary Margaret the information they so desperately need to find Emma's family, "Do you know why you're suppose to do that?"

Emma shakes her head from left to right at the question, "No."

"It shows respect to grown ups that aren't your family." Mary Margaret says.

She watches Emma closely, hoping her little lesson would help Emma open up more, but to her horror Emma presses her chin into her knees her eyes downcast, "I don't have a family."

"Everyone has a family." Mary Margaret says thought, "Family doesn't have to mean a Mommy and a Daddy. Some people can have Aunties or Uncles, any grown up taking care of them and love them. That's what a family is."

Mary Margaret doesn't think it would be possible, but Emma's next words break her heart even more, "I don't have anyone."

"Oh sweetie, I'm sure that's not true." Mary Margaret says, "Who do you live with? I'm sure those people care about you and miss you."

"I'm not going back! You can't make me!" Emma says hysterically as she tries to scramble off the bed.

Mary Margaret quickly places a hand on Emma's shoulder, the little girl shuts her eyes tightly, her entire body tensing almost as if she's bracing herself, "Please don't hurt me."

"I'm not going to hurt you." Mary Margaret promises, immediately removing her hand, "I just don't want you to hurt yourself."

Emma's eyes slowly open and she peers up at Mary Margaret, her breathing a little labored, "You aren't?"

"No sweetie, I promise." Mary Margaret says sincerely. She points at Emma's hand that is attached to the IV, her finger tip just barely grazing the soft skin of the top of Emma's hand, "See this? It's your medicine, and if you're not careful it could have come out and that would have hurt a _lot_. I need you to stay in bed okay?"

Emma nods and allows Mary Margaret to tuck her back into bed, "Ms. Mary?"

Mary Margaret smiles at the name, "Yes Emma?"

"Do you know where my dress and shoes are? They are the only ones I have." Emma says with shame.

Mary Margaret makes a mental note to go to the store and buy a few dresses for the little girl in the morning. She knows she should stop, she's going to get attached to child she's only spoken to all of five minutes, but she looks across at Emma who is peering up at her curiously, Emma large green eyes just drawing Mary Margaret in.

"It was soaked with blood, but we have a dress for you." Mary Margaret promises, as she points to the dress neatly folded on the shelf next to Emma's bed. The hospital having found a small dress of a previous patient or the other.

"Thank you."

Mary Margaret smiles warmly at Emma, "Your welcome. Your sneakers are also under the bed."

Emma nods, she takes the blanket over her lap pulling it closer to her, she then suddenly sits up, startling Mary Margaret as her eyes scan the room frantically.

"What's wrong Emma?"

"My backpack! I had it with me, it has my…I can't loose my backpack."

Mary Margaret quickly scans the room and sees the small worn down backpack at the foot of the bed. She picks it up handing it to the eager child. She watches curiously as Emma pulls on the string and opens the bag, slipping her uninjured hand deep into the bag. Emma frowns when she leans her head forward to peer into the bag.

"What's wrong?" Mary Margaret asks curiously, "Is something missing?"

"No, it smells funny." Emma says softly, "But I can't throw it away."

"Can I see what it is?" Mary Margaret asks cautiously, all too aware of the way Emma clings to the bag protectively.

But Emma immediately clamps up and simply clings to the bag more, on noticing that Mary Margaret smiles softly, "It's okay, I have things I don't like to share with others either. Some things that are just for me."

Emma just blinks up silently at Mary Margaret, and Mary Margaret realizes she has to keep the conversation going, "Emma, how old are you?"

"I'm four." Emma says proudly, holding up her hand for Mary Margaret to see making the older woman smile, she then looks back at her hand and frowns in confusion.

Mary Margaret giggles and gently bends Emma's thumb into her palm, "Four years old."

Mary Margaret smiles at Emma, but her heart aches when she thinks of this little girl all on her own. It's been two days and no one has even been looking for her. Who _does_ that? Who doesn't realize that their child is missing? She wonders why people decide to have kids, or in Emma's case take kids in if they don't even want them.

Mary Margaret shakes her head at her thoughts. She's been a volunteer at the hospital for as long as she can remember but no one has ever captured her attention quite like this four year old and she doesn't understand why she is drawn to her like this. She just can't explain it.

* * *

Turns out Emma was much more malnourished than the doctors originally thought, that did not help with her injured arm and she ends up staying in the hospital longer than anticipated. Each day after work Mary Margaret comes to visit Emma. Mary Margaret finds herself buying not only a dress, but matching shoes as well and pajamas for the little girl. She knows she's getting attached, she knows that Graham has already made the call to social services and sooner or later someone will be back to take the child away, but despite all this she finds herself drawn to Emma more than any of her own students.

"Now, if you don't have that match, you ask me if I have any." Mary Margaret explains as she holds up her own set of cards in her hands.

She peers over Emma's hands, but laughs when Emma plasters the three cards to her tiny chest, "No peeking!"

"Sorry." Mary Margret apologizes sheepishly, she gestures to Emma's hand, "Ask me, if I have any of your cards."

Emma bites her lips, her litter forehead wrinkling in concentration as she peers down at the three cards in her tiny hands, "Do you have a…is this a doggy? I never saw a red doggy before."

Emma holds up the card to show the older woman, clearly all thoughts about Mary Margaret 'peeking' forgotten. "Him don't look like a doggy."

"It's a fox." Mary Margret explains with a smile, she pulls out her own card, matching Emma's.

"You have one too!" Emma says excitedly, waving her the card in her hand, the other two falling face upwards on the bed, forgotten. "We're twins!"

Mary Margret giggles at that exclamation, "And now it's yours. So you put those two on the side, and you have two cards left. Ask again."

Emma quickly picks up her last two cards and then smiles at Mary Margaret, "Do you have a bird? A blue one though _not_ a purple. Oh I'm nots 'ppose to tell you."

"It's okay, I don't have any birds." Mary Margret says with a grin, she then taps the pile of cards, "Now you have to go fish and see if the card you get matches your own."

"How come it's called go fish, but there are no fishies?" Emma asks curiously as she picks up the card and huffs when the card is clearly not what she wanted.

Mary Margaret pauses at the question, tilting her head to look at Emma curious. She chuckles when Emma tilts her head in the exact same manner her small eyes squinting at Mary Margaret with the same expression, "I really don't know."

"That's silly." Emma declares.

"I think so too." Mary Margret agrees. She leans back against the railing of Emma's bed getting comfortable as she looks at the cards in her hands, "Do you have a bunny rabbit?"

"No. Go fish!" Emma exclaims loudly, giggling when one of the nurses pauses by the door to look into the room.

Mary Margret puts her finger to her lips, biting back a smile when Emma follows suit, "Shh. Remember everyone is sick here as well and are trying to get better, you can't make so much noise."

"Sorry." Emma says sheepishly. She then looks at her three cards and whispers loudly, clearly trying to heed Mary Margret's request, but not quiet getting the hand of whispering just yet. "Do you have any cats?"

"Go fish." Mary Margret responses laughing when Emma eagerly jumps for the pack of cards.

It's only been a few days but Emma has warmed up to Mary Margret considerably, and if she's being honest with herself, Emma has wormed her way into Mary Margret's heart as well. She pointedly tries to ignoring the nagging in the back of her mind, reminding her that soon Emma will be off to her new home.

* * *

"Ms Mary!" Emma greets excitedly from her bed.

Mary Margaret can't help but smile warmly at the greeting, Emma's once pale skin now a rosy pink and her eyes that were slightly sunken in no doubt from being malnourished, is now bright with child like excitement. Her green eyes, oddly enough, so much so like Mary Margaret twinkles when she sees the older woman.

Emma has taken to hospital, unlike anything Mary Margaret has ever seen, as far as she knows children don't usually like hospitals. In fact Storybrooke Hospital doesn't even have a children's ward, its rare for children to get sick in this small town, something Mary Margaret never took notice of, until Emma came.

But, Emma seems to take in her new surroundings with ease, chatting with nurses and doctors alike. She shares a room with one other patient, but unfortunately it's a coma patient, and for the child's innocence, they have kept the curtain pulled closed. Mary Margaret knows Emma has noticed, but the little girl has yet to query who the man that is always asleep in her room is.

"Ms Mary, I drew you a piture!" Emma says enthusiastically, her small lips just unable to pronounce the 'c' in the word, making Mary Margaret smile.

Emma holds up the piece of paper, which is filled with brightly colored zigzags, but looking at it closely she can see two distinct zigzags one with long yellow coloring and another bigger zigzags with black squiggles at the top. Mary Margret bites her lip at picture, holding back a smile, her heart swelling with pride.

"It's me and you." Emma says brightly, "See I colored your hair black and mine 'lello."

"It's beautiful." Mary Margaret says warmly, "I'll put it on my fridge at home."

At the word home, Emma frowns, "Ms. Mary, when I'm all better, can I go home with you?"

Mary Margaret freezes at the little girl's words, she wants more than anything to give Emma the answer she wants to hear. To give this little girl the stability she so desperately needs, but Mary Margaret knows she can't promise her that. She finds her own heart breaking at the sad reality that sooner, rather than later she will have to say goodbye.

"That won't be necessary, dear." A cool voice calls out from the doorway.

The sound of high heels clicking against the linoleum echoes as a tall, slim well-dressed woman walks into her room. Emma for the most part, scoots closer to Mary Margaret as soon as the woman enters the room.

"Mayor Mills." Mary Margaret greets nervously, as she runs her hand along Emma's back, trying to sooth the frightened child, "What brings you do the hospital?"

"I'm the mayor, Ms. Blanchard. I know everything that goes on with my town." Mayor Mills says breezily, she looks at Emma closely, a smile yet to grace her features, "And it seems like we have a visitor."

She scowls when all Emma does is inch closer to Mary Margaret, "This is Emma."

"So I've been told." Mayor Mills says dryly. Her eyes narrow as she looks at Mary Margaret, almost scrutinizing the brunette's close proximity to the child. "I wasn't aware that volunteer hours extended into the weekends."

Mary Margret notes the tone of dismissal in an instance, but for the very first time, she does not immediately adhere to the mayor's request, but sits firmly in her place, "I'm visiting Emma."

"Mary Margaret is my friend."

Emma pipes up, but she cowers immediately at the hard look the mayor sends her, making Mary Margaret's blood boil. Emma is a _child_ there is no reason for the mayor to behave like that. Not that Mary Margret would _ever_ voice her thoughts on that.

"Well your _friend_ needs to leave. I have some questions for you." The mayor says with false sweetness, "We need to find your home, and we can't do that if we don't have your last name. Where are you from?"

Emma lips tremble at the older woman's words, "I don't _have_ a last name, honest. I told Sheriff Graham."

"Everyone has a last name." The mayor bristles, "Sooner, rather than later someone will be looking for you and I prefer if my little town remains trouble free. I can't have that if you continue to lie and they come looking for you"

"I'm not lying!" Emma protests, her little eyes filling with tears, "I don't _have_ a family. The Petersons ain't…"

Emma trails off her eyes wide with fright, clearly realizing her mistake. She turns to Mary Margaret tugging on her arm, her eyes frantic, "_Please_ don't make me go back there."

"It's not Ms. Blanchard's decision to make." The mayor says easily. She looks at the little child, her stoic expression faltering slightly, "I'm simply following protocol. You can't stay in this hospital forever. _This_ is not a home."

With that said she turns on her heels and walks out the door quickly, Emma looks up at Mary Margret, her big green eyes filled with tears, breaking Mary Margaret's heart. She squeezes the child's knee in reassurance and quickly follows the mayor out the door.

"Mayor Mills!" She calls out with confidence she didn't know she possessed, "She's a _child_, was all of that really necessary?"

The mayor turns around to face Mary Margret her eyes hard, any semblance of even a little bit of remorse the other woman had for Emma completely gone as she looks at Mary Margaret.

"Ms. Blanchard, that child is the ward of the state. Most of those children are runaways, and they bring trouble wherever they go. Storybrooke does not have an orphanage, child like that are sent to the nearest town in Boston. You may want to give her false hope and paint a pretty picture with rainbows and whatever other nonsense you are feeding the child, but she needs to accept the cards life has handed to her. She can't _stay_ here, the faster she learns that the better."

"She is a scared little girl." Mary Margaret protests, her anger rising, "Judging by her injuries its clear no one gives a damn about her. Are you really going to just ship her off back to that kind of life?"

"I'd watch your tone Ms. Blanchard." The mayor warns, "You sound as though this is my fault. Am I the one to blame for this child's misfortune, Ms. Blanchard?"

"Of course not." Mary Margaret says quickly, her confidence dwindling from the mayor's accusatory tone, "I just think we should reconsider…"

"There is no _we_ in this Ms. Blanchard." The mayor snaps, "I'm simply following protocol. I suggest you forget about any of those fantasies you have building in that brain of yours and accept the fact that this child _will_ be leaving Storybrooke by the end of the week."

With those final words she stalks off leaving Mary Margret standing in the empty hallway with a heavy heart. She hates that the mayor has hit a nerve. She may not have verbally promised Emma anything, but in the back of her mind Mary Margaret was already trying to figure out what was the best outcome for Emma. More specifically, Mary Margaret found herself trying to figure out the best way for Emma to remain with _her_.

It's only been a week, but somehow this little girl has wormed her way into Mary Margaret's heart, her feelings towards this little girl is unlike anything Mary Margret has ever experience and she just can't find it in her to say goodbye.

She _won't _say goodbye, and for the first time in her life, as far as she can remember, Mary Margaret is going to fight for what she believes in.

The thought not only scares, but sends a certain thrill through her, unlike anything she's ever felt before.

Or so she thinks.

* * *

**What do you think?**


End file.
